There is rest to be found in laying down,
      laying           to close your eyes to sleep,
         down          weapons the peace to keep.

fought any word wars lately, conflict leaves emptiness,
           emptiness        of a life that was once full and rich,
               leave us          love, like trees limbs stark and cold.

plunging into life every day, like it is like a lake put on cold till spring,
                   until            at the bottom the depths of cold, trap and bring,
                 aspiring        hope that there is a flicker of life to survive.

the inability to be two people, both me and you when you can't be you,
      you      the child safe and warm, where no harm can find and
      Be,              to become the adult confident and strong with a

SONG,
A Paint Brush,
INK,
Fibre Arts,
CANVAS,
****, where did you go,
I SEE YOU, but you are no longer in THIS ROOM,
                          sorry don't mean to shout,
ideas scattered
across the floor
to cover,
a path to dance on............... out
of the forest of trees,
that you cannot see
until you leave
until I leave
the line of trees all so aged
that mark, where we came from,
a "scots" Pine, that is a Norway Pine,
                make up mine,
yours a white Oak, your skin so fine,
               by design, those English,

and in each season, the unreasonable,
tears at the bubble, let the peace out up and away,
using up all your spoons before you can climb out of bed,
and the bucket will go down the well to get water but, oh
dear the bottom has fallen out and the hemp rope is in such disrepair
it gathers on a wheel called despair, as the needles of the trees fall
about the place and the oak leaves tumble in the refreshing wind but get tripped up by the
acorns.

all these black edged pine needles,
scattered floating lifeless on the well water,
all these black edged oak leave clusters
you deserve show their worth,
while that black cloud
RAGES
over head and fills the air with dread,
that something will be found, amiss,
and the volcano will show up
and the lava will flow
and will wilt me
like a lettuce leaf,
in the sun of summer.
Not that it brings hope....
but it has to.

Feed,
Fodder,
give your body what you oughta,
Needs,
get Fulfilled,
breaking new ground untilled,
Greedy,
it is Alarming
means somebody else is starving,

Food
take eat
Love
if found
repeat and give away
Shelter
safe place to eat food, and
Sleep
and dream of
Acceptance
that it is a reality,
Potential,
potential, great to be aware,
                              but dare, to go beyond the dream
and live.
Food, water, sleep happens to be only one part  
so get a taste for life, good for your heart.
Somewhere, safe there, You have to start.

is it the music,
or,
is it the lyrics,
and
the bones, three
small
bones in my ear,
that
are in my head,
or
is it the poetry
you
stir in my heart
in me,
no not you love,
or
you my lover,
but
the pictures that
a
line of words drawn
can
make on the sands of
time
and again spoken
read,
aloud as if we would
ever
be in the same room,
at
the same time, staring,
into
the others eyes, yours
so
pure and mine so soiled,
by
all that has been read
only
saved by the sounds
of
you walking in the
garden,
and the sounds of the
words,
when said together,
hard
constant consonants,
soft
vowels, like vixens
whispers
that vibrate the bones,
in
my broken hard hearted head,
hold
my hand, say the words with
me,
of poets who write through
tragedy,
of poets who write drunk poetry,
sobering
thoughts while living life while
living
a life, that does not satisfy, that
is
not lived one moment at a
time,
peace full pools shimmering
to
the words of the poet, prose
of
the poet, rhyme over reason-
able
verse in life's worst disasters.
Hold me.

Recognize a feeling, but don't let it lead,
it will turn to want, instead need,
if your heart beats pitter patter, let's get at 'er,
"full speed ahead" cries the fool,
hopelessly already lost,
                                    but what has luv got to do
                                             to get through to you,
love is an engine
of a changed heart,
not a chained part,
of misguided pleasure,
love is not the strongest
emotion even if true,
it has to be pure too.

Love has and always will,
be a void filler,,
a trust instiller,
a faith distiller,
a Spirit infiller.

Luv becomes love,
after the novelty has
worn off and the metal,
of the relationship,
shines
purely,
surely,
as each,
day the
sun rises,
so do the moments
to show love.
Unconditonally.
Agape.